


"Smell Goods", Yea Right

by writers_glock



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, M/M, just a litte, umm i accidentally sneaked some smut in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:52:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4440089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writers_glock/pseuds/writers_glock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: scented candles stink</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Smell Goods", Yea Right

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i did not mean for this to get this long, it was literally supposed to be a drabble but then i created a whole backstory in my head which you can ask for if you want, but i'll probably write it out at some point. anyway, enjoy!

Fitz had to admit, he never could have imagined his life would turn out so simple.

A small house in the suburbs, neighbors he called friends rather than actively avoided eye contact with, and a boyfriend he could have only dreamt of having in his adolescence.

Sometimes it was surreal.

This isn't to say that his and Mack’s life was perfect, they still had their fair share of fights, but it was cozy… easy and nice. Like sharing inside jokes in public without actually saying a word; or finding new shows to obsess over together, which turns into heated discussions about who's favorite character was better (“Sam should've been able to live a regular life he obviously had a lot more going for him than Dean.” “Nah Turbo you don't get it Deans the one with all the heart that's why he stayed.”), which then leads to Fitz fucked out and sobbing into the sheets Mack pounds into him from behind; or just finding out something new about the other and trying to go along with it for their sake.

Like now.

It had started three weeks ago after they'd come from visiting Mack’s grandmother.

She was a lovely woman, charming and funny, he could see why Mack spoke of her so often. Like Mack, she was tall, but where he was all muscle and bulk she was slender, though not frail-looking as many women her age might look. She had strong features, like Mack, but still maintained a very feminine quality. Her long locs fell down to her waist, they were grey, almost white, providing a beautiful contrast with her warm brown skin. She was very graceful almost like she had an air of royalty around her, Fitz thought at the time. All of her movements deliberate and her voice, light but strong. 

Nana Mackenzie- as she insisted he call her- was an interesting woman. She spent most of their visit entertaining Fitz with stories, stories of Mack in his childhood and teen years or “The Age of Destruction” as she called it, old family stories, even stories from her young adult life. He found out that she was a chef, her and her husband owned a restaurant together for years but she retired soon after his passing. And that “little Al” used to break things just to see if he could put them back together again. She laughed loud and blithe telling these, which offset the stern look her face usually held.

The only off putting thing about Nana Mackenzie, in fact, was her seeming obsession with “smell goods”- incense, potpourri, scented candles, and the like. Every room in the house held the stench of perfume, and while Mack adored it, Fitz thought the smell to be absolutely terrible. He found himself holding his breath walking through the house the smell was so strong, the unpleasantly thick scent of the candles assaulting him wherever he turned.

And the worst part of this otherwise wonderful trip is that Mack seemed to have brought this obsession home with him, the drive back home getting detoured with a quick trip to the candle shop.

In retrospect, he probably should've said something then, told Mack that the obnoxious scents nauseated him before they found their way into his home, but he couldn't. His boyfriend just looked so content with his arms full of candles talking animatedly about how he'd love to have this little reminder of his grandmother, he just couldn't find it in him to put a halt to his fun.

This brought him to his current predicament of trying not to look guilty as Mack bore on and on about trust and their friend’s ever-failing relationship.

“Fitz this is the third time in two months.”  
The taller man grumbled, as he paced in front of the couch where Fitz sat chagrined, biting his lip, following the movement with his eyes.

“The third time in two months,” Mack emphasized, “that Hunter and Bobbi have had a fight like this.

And it's always the same thing: one of them doesn't tell the other something important, the other one gets mad- understandable” he conceded, “– then blows the whole situation out of proportion.and now Bobbi’s upstairs crying.”

He lowered is voice towards the end, pointing in the direction of their guest room.

It's true, this was the never ending cycle of Hunter and Bobbi since Fitz had met the two a while back, and Mack had told him it had been going on for even longer before that.  
They constantly cycled between good weeks and bad weeks. The good weeks were almost honeymoon levels of disgusting displays of affection- some that would be seared into Fitz’ mind forever. And the bad weeks… well during these times it was hard to discern how exactly they had stayed together for quite so long.

“It does seem a bit unhealthy,” Fitz offered tentatively from his place on the couch, “but it's not like they're ever purposely trying to hurt the other.”

“Yea, you're right about that.” He slowed his pace to a stop.

“And I'm sure th-they thought they were just saving the other from um-uh being, no, from hurting the others feelings.” Fitz continued hurriedly, stumbling through his point.

Mack heaved a sigh, dropping onto the couch beside Fitz, wrapping an arm around him which the smaller man immediately sank into.

“That is how they are,” He sighed again, “I just wish they would talk to each other, y’know, everything would be simple if they just told each other how they were fee-“

“I hate the damn candles.” Fitz cuts in abruptly.

He didn't actually mean for the words to come out that harsh, but he saw an opportunity. Mack had gone quiet beside him. Fitz was certain his boyfriend was looking at him strangely but he had taken to burrowing further into his side and staring down at his twiddling fingers.

“What?” Mack said after it became clear Fitz wouldn't continue.

“The candles uh- the scented candles, I don't parti-particularly like them, they stink… horribly.”

Mack moved so he could face Fitz, “Why didn't you say that before.”

“Well I didn't want to upset you, you were really excited about them, like a small child, it was adorable, really.” Fitz smiled.

Mack tucked a finger under the smaller mans chin, lifting his head so they were face to face, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“I'm not upset,” He reassured Fitz who still looked a bit worried, “honestly it's fine we can throw them all out of you want.”

“No, no. I'm sorry if you want to keep them, keep them, I'll live, I-I'm just complaining really, there's no need-“

Mack pressed his lips to Fitz’ again, this time longer, letting the kiss deepen and effectively shutting off the smaller man’s babbling.

“Leo, if you don't like the candles, consider them gone.” He said with finality.

Fitz sighed in relief, “Oh thank god, I wasn't sure how much more I could take.”

“You know you guys are really cute” an English accent interrupted them. They turned to see Hunter standing in the entryway, confused as to how he got in their house, “I hope you don't mind I let myself in, is Bobbi upstairs?”

The couple stared, still puzzled.

“Well alright then, sorry to interrupt, I'll just…” the man excused himself awkwardly walking towards the staircase.

“Okay now what are we gonna do about them,” Mack questioned as Fitz started outright giggling at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> like if you like, give feedback, and prompt me at http://purely-semantics.tumblr.com/ask


End file.
